A real smile, it’s in the eyes,
It makes you feel like you can touch the sky.
Like snow in July, and the twinkle in your eye,
Your smile makes me feel like I can fly.
And, I never want to say goodbye.
Sky is the limit, they’re infinite,
They start as seeds, then flowers,
Hope makes them indefinite,
She says they’re flawed,
I say they are real,
And like the stars.
Nothing stops my zeal,
I stop and stare….
I am finally there.
The moment is here;
Years in the making.
No one can jeer.
I am on top of the world.
Post written by Carole Beckhorn
When I’m leaving
I’ll think about
The people I didn’t touch
By not talking too much
Or just by not being a crutch
The people who I wanted
For our hearts to be near
But the love was never seeded
When I set sailed on my journey
I left those people at the pier
And I never took a second look
back to see
The people swimming after me
But right now
I’m thinking of
The ones I took and will
take along the way
I hope they have my love
And when I’m gone
I hope it remains there still
And the people who have different
I hope it’s there to this day
And that they pass it, carry it on
to whatever locations
they may be
We’ll meet again; you’ll see
Post written by Thomas Tran
We are the people who adjust to new life.
We are the world that loves reform.
We are aware of the true picture,
Observe beyond the small things.
See the generosity and love.
Crush the enmity a thousand times.
We leave hate behind.
We shun our old ideas,
And we always move forward.
We the people now
But have we really
We the people consistently have
Been stuck in the same pattern,
Approved our old ways.
We have joined hands with hate
Even when we attempt to crush it a thousand times.
Blinded by greed and envy,
We have a narrow outlook on life.
Neglectful of the things that matter,
The world struggled to change.
We the people have not
But we are always
We the people are changing.
The world grows with speed,
People caring about others’ needs.
We are looking over the wall
And building a bridge together.
Post written by Katharine Burgess
every day, it seems as if the ground shifts under my own self-perception:
I gain new entries to the endless encyclopedia of memories and fears and observations.
but it demands a title change, a fundamental recognition of transformation.
yet, the events, the plot, your recognition of my change languish in their similarity.
sometimes it feels as if I’m an adult to myself and a child to the world.
I’ve become markedly different, but every change is invariably internal:
I carry few of the society’s determined milestones for growth.
my perspective is in constant flux, my life relatively stagnant.
there’s this moment when you’re talking about something,
and you step back to realize it’s completely unknown to your actual experience.
there’s the secondhand life we live in literature, music, and all the other entertainment we care to create,
but the actual presence of the moment,
in all its transience and fragility, is still a mystery.
you can’t capture falling in love and rewind it on a television set.
we may believe we’ve created life by proxy,
but the substance of life, the sense of significance we feel ever so often
is entirely uncapturable.
so, while I realize my own encounters with the world have been so limited,
with vast swathes of the human experience I have never trod,
I still see my own personal terrain changing shape day by day.
I’ve become a sort of narcissistic professional — well trained to understand myself.
yet, one fear/hope/idea lingers with me:
when we venture out to connect with some small part of world,
when we become an adult in the eyes of all,
do you lose yourself?
by which, do you lose the self-concept your isolation from the greater experiences of life allowed you to create?
can we only truly know ourselves when we are not forced to change? to adapt? to experience?
is stagnancy necessary for understanding?
Post written by AnneMarie Caballero
“Text the keyword WIN to 200200 for your chance to-”
A sigh, click, sudden silence
Squinting into bright sunlight filtering through tinted glass
Fingers drum along a perfect arc of leather
Dozens tensely perched
Lions stalking prey, waiting for the perfect moment to strike
All eyes are trained intensely on a single fixture
The cold light brings them to life
Beasts spring to life with a dull roar
Barreling towards their destination
Momentum of a great behemoth
But lacking the primordial grace
Rubber veins pump fumes, not ichor
Another dull sigh, a slow grinding halt
The next light turns red and the radio flicks back on.
“-double pay work day! Again, text WIN to”
Post written by Sean Gibbons
Blurry faces stand around, their voices
fading in and out, all listening to her pulse.
The one thing she can hear is her heartbeat,
Drowning everything else, it encompasses her,
Producing a clear, overwhelming rhythm,
and the rhythm was calm – nature’s way of composing.
But it was not always calm.
Like all great composers before
The tempo changed in pace creating
An ever flowing and beautiful melody.
She lay numb recalling those moments.
Dancing in her backyard, her father arrives home.
Running to him she feels a surge of happiness, then her heartbeat slowed,
She was safe in his arms.
Then running home alone in the dark, heart beating so fast
as she looks over her shoulder. The one thing keeping her alive,
warning her of dangers. Scared for her life she runs on.
Her pace stays steady then
She meets the man she is going to marry,
Her heartbeat so strong it seems to be
Screaming this is what you’ve been searching for!
But he dies, and life loses excitement
Her heart beats slow and soft, just enough so she knows
That even though it’s broken, her life will carry on.
Life moves slower now; her rhythm hasn’t changed for years.
“Funny”, she thinks “Life is supposed to flash before my eyes,
but I am listening to a song”
A song she knew had reached its climax,
A song with many ups and downs
A song where she felt the fullest in love,
And yet the farthest from it.
Beat. Beat. Beat. Beat.
Her song has ended.
Post written by Olivia Hays